Going Electric in Tulsa
Hanging out with Bob Dylanologists in Oklahoma
Electricity, as we use it today with an alternating current, was discovered by Nikola Tesla on May 16, 1888. It was perfected on July 25, 1965, when acoustic folk-rock darling Bob Dylan took the stage at the Newport Folk Festival, said “Play it fucking loud,” and did just that with his songs “Maggie’s Farm,” “Like a Rolling Stone,” and “It Takes a Lot to Laugh, it Takes a Train to Cry” with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band playing behind him.
Nah, I’m not getting into the “Judas” and axe-swinging Pete Seeger stories. The latter isn’t true, anyway. Instead, I’m still buzzing from celebrating the 60th anniversary of this cultural hard left-turn in Tulsa last week.
Before I jump in, here’s why all the cool Bob Dylan stuff happens in Tulsa.
Tulsa’s busy in July, what with lots of people passing through to Woodyfest and to mark Woody Guthrie’s birthday on July 14th at the Woody Guthrie Center. You’ll likely find me there that weekend, reading with the Woody Guthrie Poets (including podcast guest Paul Juhasz). When that ends, the Dylan and Guthrie museum staff have about two weeks to prepare for the arrival of all the Dylanologists who come to town for a symposium at the Tulsa University Institute for Bob Dylan Studies.
I have friends who attend and present at the conference, but I’ve yet to attend. I’m hoping that next year I might have the finances and gumption to attend Bob Dylan Summer Camp, too. But this year, I just went for the closing ceremonies.
When this came through my email about six weeks ago, I thought there was no way I could afford two Tulsa trips in two weeks. But thanks to a discount on the ticket through my Bob Dylan Center membership, and a surprisingly good hotel rate (that never happens during Bob Dylan Summer Camp), I jumped in.
This was a much more relaxed Oklahoma trip than the one two weeks prior. Friday was a good, stress-free drive and a comfy room. Saturday was Bob Day. I started at the Woody Guthrie Center to meet up with my St. Louis friend Miriam and her husband John. Both huge Dylan fans, they drove to Tulsa on Saturday, came straight to the museum (where I missed a presentation I sent them to because it started at 2 but I remembered it as 3), and hung out with me for a bit. The next day, we spent two hours wandering through the Bob Dylan Center, watching video from and about the Newport set, and all sorts of other good stuff.
It’s funny how often this happens—I’ll be traveling and wind up spending my time with St. Louis friends whom I almost never see in St. Louis. I’ll take it, though. It was lovely to catch up with Miriam, along with my friends who work at the center.
That night, I caught Miriam and John in line for the show at the fabulous Cain’s Ballroom. There were two shows, but I only went to the first, which was fine with me because I got lucky and the ticket I scored was in the front row (behind two rows of VIP tables, but still!)
In 2019, I met Sonic Youth guitarist and co-founder Lee Ranaldo and his lovely wife, the artist Leah Singer in Tulsa. He was one of the first people to research in Bob’s archives when they moved to Tulsa, and I thought he was the perfect choice to be the music director for a night celebrating electric Dylan. For the event, he was joined by SY bandmate Steve Shelley on drums. Mid-1960s Dylan with a side of noise rock? I am there! Add in Nels Cline and Mikal Jorgensen from my beloved Wilco, John Doe from X, Dean and Britta from Luna, Robyn Hitchcock, Emma Swift, ex-U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo, and I’m absolutely going to have a good time.
The Million Dollar Bashers, as they were named for the night, put the power into their interpretation of so many Dylan favorites. I expected them to start as Bob did that night in Rhode Island, with “Maggie’s Farm,” but instead we eased in with Ranaldo on vocals for “Most Likely You Go Your Way and I’ll Go Mine.”
The sixteen-song set was rotated through the vocalists on the bill with their versions of Dylan classics that didn’t veer far from their original arrangements. However, with Cline and Ranaldo on guitars, everything arrived perfectly blistered.
I wasn’t familiar with folk-punk L.A. vocalist Sunny War before she set foot on the stage and ripped “Subterranean Homesick Blues” to fiery shreds, the way it should be. I respect any vocalist who can do that, and I’m excited to dig into her original music. Later in the show, her take on “I Want You” felt a little emotionally detached but still intriguing.
It’s been forever since I’ve listened to Galaxie 500 or Luna, but Dean Wareham’s voice is one of my favorites from the 1990s. His vocals on “Tiger Lily” find their way into my head at least weekly. With bandmate (and wife) Britta Phillips, his unique voice that has always veered into Dylan territory made me swoony on “She Belongs to Me,” one of my favorites. So many of my favorites were played that night, but this is the song I wish were about me.
I knew Nels Cline would likely be a part of a show highlight for me, and he didn’t disappoint. Playing classic Spanish acoustic lead guitar with Ranaldo contributing quiet electric guitar accents and Miller on bass, Robyn Hitchcock had me clinging to every minute of “Desolation Row.”
Many years ago, when I was first, albeit belatedly, cutting my Bob Dylan teeth, I spent a long evening drinking wine with a friend, listening to Bringing It All Back Home on vinyl over and over, only getting up to flip the album. We joked that if there was any 11-minute song to listen to six or seven times in a night, “Desolation Row” is the one to choose. I stand by that, with the caveat that such events should be live with these guys.
As for “Maggie’s Farm”? My guy John Doe had plenty to say about Maggie and Ma and Pa.
I’m not gonna pretend that Miriam and I weren’t texting about how good Mr. Doe looks. Because we were. He’s the first punk rocker who caught my attention when I was just a tot back in 1983, and he still mesmerizes me. This was my favorite part of the show.
Of course, they wrapped up with a group sing of “Like a Rolling Stone,” that snare drum smack ringing through Cain’s like the announcement of a new second coming.
Being witness to so many musicians I love playing these timeless songs, it occurred to me that, should humans still be around in three or four hundred years, they’ll still know Bob’s songs. Just as we know Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and Brahms’ Lullaby, these pieces of music will filter through all the noise and survive. Universal and beautiful, they’ll give hints about what we were in the 20th century. And that makes me happy.
The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed early to meet my friends Gus* and Court for breakfast at Chimera. Not only is it the café where I met Gus in 2017, but they also have had a menu filled with items named after Sonic Youth songs since long before Ranaldo followed all the Dylan stuff to town.
Gus and Court were both on their way out of Tulsa, having been there for all of the Dylan festivities. They’re both professors who have done extensive music history research, and I’m always happy to see them because they’re great. I’m always a little in awe that they spend their careers researching, learning, teaching, and writing about the stuff I would love to be fully immersed in, had I been more of a scholar and less of an attention span-deprived weirdo who didn’t really understand how college worked when I had the opportunity.
I can’t remember what started it, but something had been said among the Dylanologists akin to, “Don’t ask him about the past or the future,” regarding interviewing Bob. While we laughed at Dylan’s infamous curmudgeonness, it was a good reminder to focus on the present. When I’ve got an iced latte on a hot morning, a plate of tomato toast, and the company of smart and kind people who get what music means, it truly is the only moment that matters.
Here’s to staying plugged in and forever young.
*Gus and I did make it onto CSPAN’s “Book Talk” in 2020, talking about his Woody Guthrie book, Woody Guthrie: An Intimate Life. And yes, I will drop that fact until we have a new claim to fame.
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